


By Association

by aroceu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5 Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-20
Updated: 2011-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 21:52:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroceu/pseuds/aroceu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 reasons why being friends with Albus Potter is a horrible thing and 1 reason why it actually might not be so bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Association

I. Insanity

Al had told Scorpius that the reason why the Sorting Hat put him in Ravenclaw was because he had been so busy trying to decide whether he wanted to go to Gryffindor or Slytherin more that the Sorting Hat had said something like, “You think too much. RAVENCLAW!” and that was the end of that.

Scorpius had snorted in contempt. He hadn’t realized at the time how right the Hat was.

Now, five years later, the two of them were sitting in the Quidditch stands and watching the Hufflepuff practice. They hadn’t been sent over as spies—of course not. Plus, it was Al’s idea that they should watch to figure out their strategies, anyways.

“So, we know that Pucey is going to give the pass to Clarence even though he’ll fake it to Evans, and Thomas will hit the Bludger in the Keeper’s direction rather than in on any passing Chasers—though, if their paths intersect, we’ll have to decide if we’d rather protect our Keeper or get the Quaffle, because if we don’t do anything, we’ll leave an opening, and if we go for the Chasers, then that might mean that Thomas will hit Timothy, and you know we’re pants at Quidditch without our Keeper—and so—but oh no, what if Griffins gets the Bludger instead?”

“Al, you think too bloody much,” said Scorpius, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck. Al was insane if he wanted them to stay in this frigid weather any longer.

“But don’t you _see_ , Scorpius, we need to strategize how we’re going to align our Chasers—and our Beaters—”

“If you don’t quite remember,” said Scorpius, “we have _two_ Beaters. And I’m pretty sure that they’re perfectly competent with blocking Thomas and Griffins.”

“But.” Al pouted, and Scorpius forced himself to look away. “But we don’t know if they’ll refute the Hufflepuff’s plans, or play right into them.”

Al was Seeker of the Ravenclaw team, so it was understandable that he was so concerned. But still, even as a Chaser, Scorpius was pretty sure that his concern sometimes went to certain extreme levels.

“I don’t think it matters, Al,” he said gently. “ _As long as you catch the Snitch_.”

“Oh—right!”

And at other times, Al sometimes forgot what really _was_ important.

 **II. Family (and Friends)**

“You’ll spend Christmas with us, won’t you Scorp?” asked Al.

Scorpius fidgeted uncomfortably as he watched the eyes of the Weasley clan (who were at Hogwarts, anyways) turned to him, daring him to say yes or no. “I’ll think about it,” he managed with a shrug.

Lily, who was a bit more friendly toward Scorpius than the rest of their family (save for Al), beamed up at him and grabbed his arm. “You _should_!” she said eagerly. “It’ll be loads of fun!”

“Yeah,” chimed in Rose, who had taken a certain liking to Scorpius as well—mostly because of her competitiveness in grades, which Al had told Scorpius was a result from both her mother’s _and_ father’s genes (and also because Rose was currently beating Scorpius in Charms, but it wasn’t like he’d ever admit that.) “I’m sure my dad will have a fit when he sees you.” She giggled.

Scorpius had been invited over to the Potter’s and the Weasley’s for the holidays (and not Easter break, because no one ever went home during Easter break) for the past four years. While he certainly would have loved to spend more time with Al, sometimes he felt a bit… intimidated by his friends (and family’s) large number.

“I don’t know,” Scorpius said truthfully.

Hugo bumped his arm, and Lorcan bumped his other. Lysander thumped him from the back.

“What was that for?!” Scorpius yelped, rubbing his two arms and his shoulders, wincing.

“We _want_ you to come,” said Lorcan.

“We don’t care what _their_ dad thinks,” added Lysander, indicating Al, Rose, Hugo and Lily, all who nodded because they didn’t care what their own fathers thought as well.

“Plus,” said Lorcan, “I’m sure our mum will love you. She just loves strange things, and you’re definitely strange.”

“Yeah, Scorp,” Al said with a grin. “You’re _definitely_ strange. Now come on, please?”

Scorpius rolled his eyes, but found that he couldn’t fight against Al’s teasing gaze. “All right, fine,” he said. “I’ll go to your house for Christmas.”

All the Potters, Weasleys and Scamanders cheered. Faintly, Scorpius wondered if he would regret this later.

xxxx

And he did.

Well, not especially. It had been a bit fun, actually, after Floo’ing to the Potters’ house. Al had offered a space up in his room, but Al’s dad (who didn’t seem to mind Scorpius one bit) said that under no circumstances was he going to allow two males in their house share a bedroom, and instead directed Scorpius to a guest bedroom he hadn’t seen earlier. Al’s mum didn’t mind Scorpius much as well, though occasionally she’d give him little odd looks, like she’d forget that he was there.

However, once the holidays _really_ started, the fireplace had been more active than Scorpius had ever seen a fireplace ever be. First came Rose and Hugo, beaming with their parents in a tow (their dad gave Scorpius a very suspicious look, and only regarded him with a slight nod.) Then Lysander and Lorcan appeared, along with a bearded man who apparently was their father, and a misty-eyed looking woman. _Then_ the fireplace was looking more like a fireplace than ever, because flames of red started popping out through the chimney and onto the mantel. There was Albus’s grandmother and Albus’s grandfather (who, like Rose’s dad, looked at Scorpius with a very strange expression on his face), and then one of Albus’s uncles and then another one of Albus’s uncles and then another one of Albus’s uncles and then _another_ one of Albus’s uncles. Not to mention a few of Albus’s parents’ friends had decided to come by as well, because according to Al, his father was “a lonely old sag when he was a child and so now he’ll have all the company he can get.” Oh, and Al’s brother James had come back from Egypt where he was doing his studies to stay with them for the holidays.

And so Scorpius was stuck in a house with more or less thirty people inside it, all screaming and shouting and laughing and having a good time. And if Scorpius hadn’t decided to go to Al’s room last minute, where he was busy playing Exploding Snap with his sister; he’d probably feel more out of place than usual.

 **III. Attention**

Scorpius usually didn’t mind being out of place, though. When holidays were over, they went back to Hogwarts, and everything felt as normal as ever. On his own, he was generally ignored by the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins; Gryffindors didn’t really care that much but wouldn’t hesitate to talk to him, and the Ravenclaws treated him with respect but nothing more.

However, this wasn’t the case for Albus, whom Scorpius pitied greatly. Al was constantly stopped in the hallways to be talked to, whether by giggling girls or by blokes who just wanted to associate with Albus on a daily basis. Albus hadn’t minded at first, but now at sixth year, he was starting to become more and more annoyed.

“ _Honestly_!” said Albus, throwing his book on the table in the library. “You’d think that they’ve never seen me before!”

The librarian turned around and shushed them. Both Scorpius and Al ignored her, though they did do their best to tone their volume down.

“Well,” said Scorpius uncomfortably. “Maybe just tell them you don’t like the attention? Then maybe they’ll leave you alone?”

“Not likely,” Albus said darkly. “They’d more go something like, ‘ _Oh, tell me why you don’t like the attention! Tell me your every dying wish, Albus Severus Potter!_ ’”

He made a choking motion with his hands, and Scorpius laughed. “Don’t get too full of yourself, Al,” he said with a chuckle.

“But it’s true, you know.” Albus rolled his eyes. “I just wish they’d leave me _alone_. I mean, it’s not really my fault I look like my father. But that doesn’t mean I _am_ him. I’m in Ravenclaw, aren’t I?”

“You are,” agreed Scorpius.

“And just because I look like my dad doesn’t mean that they can treat me like Harry bloody Potter. No ‘ffense to my dad.”

Scorpius hadn’t actually thought about the way Al looked like his father—which he did, remarkably, the same way Scorpius looked a lot like his own father. But to Scorpius, Al had always just looked like Al—stubborn wild black hair, blazing green eyes, stern jaw and uncharacteristically soft lips. Not that Scorpius thought a lot about Albus’s lips—but—

“Well you don’t have the glasses,” Scorpius said finally. “Or the scar. And I think I like you better looking like yourself than your dad, anyways.”

Al glanced up to him, and the expression on his face was soft, endearing. Scorpius’s heart leapt in his throat. “Thanks, Scorp,” he said with a smile. Scorpius smiled back.

The other thing about Al getting so much attention, however, was that anyone who was with him was not ignored (like they were _supposed_ to be, Scorpius would seethe in his mind), but rather, got almost the same amount of attention as he did.

So while Scorpius was rather looked over when he was by himself, the frequent times he was with Albus, he got almost the same amount of torture as he did.

So it wasn’t too much of a surprise when a random seventh year Gryffindor boy plopped on the seat next to Albus and asked them both what they thought the fifth use of dragon’s blood was.

 **IV. Mischief**

Albus often had plans. Scorpius was actually pretty surprised he hadn’t been Sorted into Gryffindor and Slytherin—they would have suited him well (then again, maybe being in Ravenclaw would keep him out of trouble.) When Albus’s mischievous side would come out, Scorpius had no other choice but to be dragged along.

After all, with all of Albus’s siblings in Gryffindor, they couldn’t keep tabs on him the way Scorpius could.

“Just think,” Albus said with a giggle as they walked back from Hagrid’s hut one February afternoon. “Mrs. Norris will be blue on Mondays and Wednesdays, yellow on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and pink on Fridays and Saturdays.”

“What about Sundays?” asked Scorpius.

Albus rolled his eyes. “Oh, she’ll just be her normal color. Then Filch will think the spell is all over—but when Monday comes, he’ll see that it’s not!”

Scorpius hit Albus in the back of his head. “You’re an idiot if you think he’s going to fall for that,” he said.

“And you’re a prat.” Albus hit Scorpius back. “Come on, let’s go steal Mrs. Norris!”

The two boys entered the castle and quickly walked down the halls, fast enough so that they would be efficient, slow enough that they wouldn’t attract unwanted attention. They were soon on the fourth floor where the caretaker’s office was. The corridor was completely quiet, but not empty; Al put a finger to his lips and brought his Invisibility Cloak out of his bag. Carefully, he draped it around both him and Scorpius, and the two of them walked down the hall as quietly as possible.

Normally, Scorpius would be thinking about how this was a bad idea and how he should tell Albus that they should stop and perhaps study (which Albus surprisingly liked doing—that was probably his Ravenclaw side coming out), but right now all he could think about was the way they were huddle so close together under the cloak. The way their thighs were pressed against each other. The way their hands were touching, not held, but touching. The way he could feel Albus’s every movement, perhaps every heartbeat, in the silence that they were trying not to break. The way Albus’s face was only centimeters away from his… only mere centimeters…

Albus nudged his arm and Scorpius shook himself out of his reverie. They were right outside Filch’s office now. Scorpius silently cast _Alohamora_ (he had been the first in their D.A.D.A class to master nonverbal spells) and it clicked open, none too loudly. Albus pushed the door aside and they both crept in, and then Albus closed the door behind them.

“Ah,” he said, throwing the Invisibility Cloak off. “Now let’s see here…” He turned to Mrs. Norris’s cage in the back of the room.

Scorpius darted his eyes around. “Al, what if he comes in? You honestly don’t think—”

“Don’t worry, I told Lorcan and Hugo to break the chandelier on the fourth floor.” Albus was already pointing his wand in the cage to Mrs. Norris, who had been hissing at their sudden presence. “He’d be spending _forever_ yelling at them, and then even longer to clean up the mess—”

“WHAT ARE YOU FILTHY RUFFIANS DOING IN MY OFFICE?!”

Later, it was found out that Lorcan and Hugo had successfully broken the fourth floor chandelier. However, Professor Flitwick had found them before Filch had, and had already done the yelling (or rather, squeaking), before casting a rather swift repairing Charm that mended the chandelier and brought it back up to the ceiling. Filch had no other business that afternoon, and was just about to groom Mrs. Norris until he saw the two boys there.

Al and Scorpius both got three days’ worth of detention and Flitwick, although had said that Albus’s Color Changing Charm was a rather good one (for Al had cast the spell shortly before Filch had come into his office), was very disappointed in them as their Head of House and changed it back.

Scorpius blamed the whole thing on Albus. Albus blamed it on Professor Flitwick.

 **V. Sensitivity**

Those who knew Albus Potter well knew to get on his good side. Because often times, if you said the wrong thing… well, bad things would happen.

Scorpius knew what the bad things were. He also knew what the good things were. He’d try to stick with the good things, but sometimes he just couldn’t help teasing Albus. He knew that Albus usually didn’t _care_ , because it was Scorpius, of course—but sometimes, Scorpius could be a little bit tactless and Albus a little over sensitive.

It was well into March when Scorpius decided to focus more on studying for his N.E.W.T.s, while Albus, as much as he loved reading books, would rather go to Hogsmeade that weekend than study for the exams they wouldn’t be having for well more over than a year. He and Scorpius had argued about this before, but it was something they didn’t like coming back to. After all, their fights were rare and radical, and neither of them liked not getting along.

Albus sighed heavily for the fifth time that morning while Scorpius lay on his royal blue bedspread, going over the Goblin war of 1655. Scorpius looked up to him.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked politely, because he knew exactly what was wrong.

“The carriages to Hogsmeade will be leaving in twenty minutes,” said Albus. “Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

“Yes, I’m very sure,” said Scorpius firmly. “And I think you should stay, too.”

“I told you, I don’t _want_ to study for my N.E.W.T.s yet. We still have fifteen months to go!”

“Yeah, fifteen months to study for exams that will determine the _rest of our lives_ ,” Scorpius emphasized.

“I’m sure it can wait.” Albus waved his hand. “And it’s not going to determine the rest of our lives; it’s just going to determine what we do out of Hogwarts, and then after that we can decide what we want—”

“Well you can go to Hogsmeade if you want, Al, but I’m not coming with you.”

“It’s not about _me_ going to Hogsmeade, it’s about you!” Al insisted. “I don’t think it’s necessary that you study right now—you could be having more fun, with _me_ —”

“I’m perfectly all right, thanks.” Scorpius didn’t look up from his book.

Al slid off his own bed. “Fine then,” he said, seemingly annoyed. “I don’t care if you go to Hogsmeade or not, anyways. You’d much rather be reading a bloody old _book_ than hang out with your _friend_.”

“Yes, that’s exactly it,” said Scorpius sarcastically, turning a page in his History of Magic textbook.

“And I’m _sure_ ,” Albus said loudly, “that you find much better company with a book than with _me_.”

“I’m sure that you had always found Sylvia Scarlege’s company better than mine, anyways,” Scorpius said coolly. “And the only reason why you want to go to Hogsmeade today was so that you could go meet up with her on a little _date_ , or something. Snogging at Puddifoot’s, or whatever.”

Scorpius didn’t need to look up to know that he had crossed a line here. Al’s momentary silence spoke loud enough.

“For your information,” Albus said in a dangerously controlled voice. “I wanted to go to Hogsmeade so that you and I could try the new Toe-Warming Tarts. But since I’m obviously going to be _snogging at Puddifoot’s_ —”

“Because you find more comfort in girls than in me!” said Scorpius suddenly. He knew it wasn’t true and he didn’t mean it. And he had no idea what possessed him to say that. But still, he couldn’t help wondering if this _was_ true.

Evidently not.

“Scorpius, I _do not_!” Albus shouted back. “Haven’t you noticed that I’d much rather spend more time with you than the stupid girls who giggle over me in the hallways? Haven’t you noticed that I’d rather go to the Three Broomsticks and laugh at the blokes who try to flirt with Madame Rosmerta, instead of flirting with her my _self_?”

“What are you trying to say?” said Scorpius.

Albus let out a cry of frustration and stormed out of the room. Scorpius listened for a moment, to Albus stomping down the stairs, through the common room, until he could hear no more. Then he turned back to his book and resumed his reading.

And, well, if his stomach was now twisting in knots, he assured himself that it had nothing to do with Albus.

 **VI. Friendship (Or More)**

They didn’t speak for several days, which Rose told Scorpius thought was “ludicrous” and Lily had told him multiple times that she thought the world was ending. While Scorpius doubted that the Armageddon would come just because of his and Albus’s falling out, it certainly did feel like his world was being crushed.

As usual, Scorpius wrote to his parents that it wasn’t likely that he was going to leave for Easter break. With a pang, he recalled the year before when he and Al had spent that entire holiday hanging out in their dorms, because the rest of their dorm mates had left and they had the whole room to themselves. They covered Morton’s bed with Invisible Sticking Paste, and left a shrunken Kneazle under Jeremiah’s bed. Of course, both Morton and Jeremiah had been pissed when they found out—but even they grudgingly admitted that they were good pranks (all thanks to Albus’s plotting mind.)

This year the arrangements happened to be the same, but with Albus and Scorpius having not talked for the past week, it was much more awkward. For Scorpius refused to acknowledge Albus and Albus refused to look at him, though he _did_ hear his name being brought up in conversation. Most of the times it was when Albus was talking to Lily or Rose in the hallways—the girls were probably trying to get Albus to talk to him again, and Albus would say no.

Scorpius didn’t think their fight would last long; after all, the longest fight they had ever been in just consisted of two weeks of not talking. Of course, it was the worst two weeks of Scorpius’s life (because Albus had refused to forgive Scorpius when Scorpius apologized for not telling him earlier that he had snogged Tina Yards, a fourth year Hufflepuff—and _she_ was the one who had kissed him first, and Scorpius didn’t like it one bit!), but still. Scorpius vaguely wondered if their fight this time would outdo their other one. They’d make up somehow, some way—but for now, they weren’t speaking.

At least, until the ninth day approached.

Scorpius had been going over his Charm notes back from fourth year when he heard the dormitory door open. He didn’t bother looking up; he knew that it was still Easter holidays, and Albus was the only person who could have come in. But when he felt a weight at the foot of his bed, he glanced up.

Scorpius started, but Albus didn’t even bother looking at him. “We should talk,” he said, staring at the wooden floor.

“Like hell we don’t,” snarled Scorpius. “Get off my bed.”

“No.”

Albus sat there. After a while, Scorpius just gave up trying to hex him into oblivion with his eyes (despite any circumstance, he’d never turn his wand against Albus) and returned to his book with a huff. But then he noticed that Albus looked at him.

“We need to talk,” he said again.

Scorpius sighed, exasperated. “Talk about _what_?”

“You know.” Albus’s green gaze bore into him.

Scorpius tore his eyes away. “Well I haven’t seen you studying for your N.E.W.T.s any time soon,” he said, returning to his notes. “So unless you start reading—”

“I’m not talking about that,” said Albus. “I’m talking about the other thing.”

Scorpius was confused now. “What other thing?”

“The thing you said about…” Albus shifted on Scorpius’s bed. “Me finding more comfort in girls than you.”

Scorpius narrowed his eyes. “So it’s true?”

“No! No, of course not,” Albus said hastily. Scorpius watched him, waited for him to go on—but then Albus just continued staring at the floor.

“Well,” said Scorpius, “if you’re not going to say anything of value, then can you _please_ get off my—”

He was cut off suddenly when Albus threw himself over the bed—rather clumsily at that—pressed Scorpius against the headboard, straddled his hips, and leaned in so close that Scorpius could feel his breath on his nose.

Scorpius glowered at him, ignoring his entire body heating up from their contact. “Albus, _what_ the hell are you do—”

Albus’s mouth was on his before he even had the time to think. Scorpius lay there, shocked, as Albus continued kissing him— _kissing him_! What was Albus even kissing him for?

But it wasn’t like Scorpius didn’t enjoy it. Because at the mere touch of Albus’s lips against his own, a roaring fire started up in his stomach, twisting into knots of pleasure and desire. And Scorpius kissed back, adjusting himself on his mattress and sitting a little bit straighter, closing his eyes and knocking Albus’s arms to the side so he could put his hands on his hips, and Albus’s hands came up and he ran his fingers through Scorpius’s blond hair, and Scorpius could feel Albus’s leg pressed against his own, _so_ hard—

They broke apart and panted. Scorpius stared at Albus, wide-eyed, not sure what he had just done. What Albus had just done.

“ _What_ ,” Scorpius said, and was started to find that his voice was hoarse and ragged, “was _that_?”

“That,” said Albus, though his cheeks had turned a dark shade of red, “was me telling you that I do not prefer a girl’s presence over yours. Any girl’s.”

“You—You’re…” Scorpius opened his mouth, and then closed it. He tried to find the words to speak. “You like _blokes_?”

“Well.” Albus shrugged. “I like you. I like certain blokes. Er. Well. Only you.”

“Oh well, I suppose that’s all right then,” said Scorpius. He couldn’t help but feel a bit pleased at Albus’s confession.

“And,” said Albus. “I _am_ sorry for overreacting that day… And I know how much the N.E.W.T.s mean to you. I just thought…”

“It’s okay,” said Scorpius, waving the matter aside. He leaned in closer so that their knees bumped against each other. “We all have different priorities. Just that yours is lesser of a Ravenclaw’s.”

“And more of a Slytherin’s?” Albus teased.

“No, of a Gryffindor’s.”

“Ew! Gryffindor!” Albus crinkled his nose.

Scorpius laughed. “Al, your entire family has been in Gryffindor for decades.”

“Yeah, but Ravenclaw is so much better,” said Albus, purposely toppling over and placing his head in Scorpius’s lap.

Scorpius smiled down at him and pecked him on the nose. “And why is that?” he asked, his face millimeters away from Albus’s.

Al brought him down even closer and kissed him soundly on the lips. “Because it has you.”


End file.
